


leave you drowning until you reach for my hand

by orphan_account



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anal Sex, BDSM, Barebacking, Blow Jobs, Bondage, Communication, Dom/sub, Face Slapping, Face-Fucking, Facials, Finger Sucking, Hand Jobs, Humiliation, Kink Negotiation, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Orgasm Control, Overstimulation, Rough Sex, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-20
Updated: 2012-06-20
Packaged: 2017-11-10 17:41:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 16,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/468951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>If Louis told him to do something that he really didn't want to do, it would be different, but Louis's never done that, never asked anything of Harry that he couldn't handle. Except—except maybe this; to obey him without praise, reward, approval, or even mere acknowledgement.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For Eli, inspired by [this prompt](http://1dkinkmeme.livejournal.com/5001.html?thread=4454793#t4454793). Many thanks to [littlemousling](http://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleMousling/pseuds/LittleMousling)! Title from 'Radioactive' by Marina & the Diamonds.

The thing is, it's just not as much fun as it used to be. At first it was exciting, because it was new, because every time Louis told Harry to do something there was a little bit of doubt in his mind about whether or not Harry would _actually do it_. It felt like he was pushing him, like Harry was dragging himself out of his comfort zone purely to please Louis. And now it's just not like that, anymore. Now he _knows_ that Harry will do whatever he says, and it doesn't really feel like it's much of a challenge anymore. Harry feels secure in it, because as soon as he's obeyed Louis's command Louis will shower him with praise and that's unwavering, that's something Harry can count on. Something that makes him feel comfortable.

And it's not like Louis wants Harry to feel _un_ comfortable, but he kind of likes him a little bit on edge. He misses getting a rise out of him, seeing that slight flash of panic or uncertainty in his eyes and then seeing him go through with it _anyway_. But lately he just seems to embrace it, accept it, without hesitation or trouble. He'll grin at Louis onstage as he sings the changed lyrics, and Louis can't help but grin back because he looks so _giddy_ but it's not—it's not quite what he wants. It feels wrong lately, like something is off, and he's not sure what it is but it's making him antsy and frustrated.

It's not something he's planned out, at all. He doesn't think it through. It just—happens. One night onstage, the two of them are sitting either side of Zayn on the couch and Harry is leaning forward and it's just so easy to tap him, motion for him to lean back, and then ignore him when he does. Louis figures Harry must think he wants him to lean back so they can talk, but Louis just starts fiddling with his sleeve instead, neatening it where it's rolled up, and then Niall gets his attention, distracting him. Louis grins, already feeling the blood thrumming a little quicker in his veins knowing Harry must be looking at him, confused, waiting for him to give some indication of why he wanted him to lean back, or even just to flash him a quick smile to show that he's pleased that Harry obeyed. But Louis does neither of those things, leaving him hanging until they have to stand up again because it's time for Harry to sing.

He leaves it for the rest of the concert, satisfied, but in the back of his mind he can't help wanting to repeat this. He caught a glimpse of Harry's puzzled expression before they got up and it just—it felt good to throw him off like that, he wants to do it again. Back at the hotel they shower and flop into bed and Harry doesn't ask him about it. Louis figures he probably thinks it was just a fluke, that there's no need to mention it, or maybe he _liked_ it, liked being left floundering like that a little bit after a command.

So the next night, Louis does it again. And the next, and the next. It starts out slow, with the little things, silly stuff that he tells Harry to do just for the sake of it and Harry does just because Louis said so. And Louis looks away after, or even during, speaking to one of the others instead or taking a swig from his water bottle or grinning at someone in the crowd instead of at Harry, feeling that strange flutter in his chest when he catches sight of Harry's furrowed brow out of the corner of his eye. One night he even ignores the lyric change Harry carries out at his request, telling him what to sing and then acting like nothing is out of the ordinary, even as Harry is grinning in that goofy way he does when he knows he's breaking the rules and it's all for Louis. Louis sees his face fall, properly fall, and for a moment he feels guilty but then the chorus comes around again and Harry is belting out the wrong lyrics at the top of his voice, as clearly as he can, as though he thinks Louis didn't hear him or he didn't do it well enough the first time and that's—that's something. It makes Louis's heart hammer against his ribcage and arousal twist in the base of his spine, seeing Harry try harder to please him like that. It makes him want to kick it up a notch.

They've got a day off the next day, and Louis tells Harry what to wear in the morning like he sometimes does—it's something Harry particularly gets off on, Louis doesn't know _why_ but it makes him do it less often so that it's special. Harry's pulling a t-shirt out of the wardrobe and Louis points at him and just says, "Uh-uh."

Harry takes a shaky breath, replacing the shirt back in the wardrobe. "Which one?" he asks, hesitantly like he's not sure if he's pushing it.

"Hmm. Blue one," says Louis, "with the black jeans."

He gets up from the bed, about to get dressed himself so he has an excuse to be distracted, when there's a knock at the door. He heads over to open it and Niall comes in, starting in on some story about what Liam put on his toast by mistake at breakfast or something—Louis's not really listening, hyper-aware of Harry changing beside him, slipping on the clothes Louis picked out for him. 

Niall keeps on talking and Louis decides he should probably get dressed too, and all the while Harry just stands there in the outfit Louis chose, at a loose end, silent and fidgety, waiting for Louis's approval. Niall's presence alone isn't really enough of a reason for Louis to hold out, he could easily just give Harry a quick wink and a "Lookin' good, babe," but instead he just pulls on his clothes, chatting to Niall and pretty much ignoring Harry completely. There's a part of him, again, that feels bad, as they make their moves towards the door and Harry is still hovering there looking so _lost_ , but then—

"Lou," Harry mutters in a sort of urgent voice, "w-which shoes?"

And again he's trying harder, thinking Louis's not pleased and he needs to do more, and god, there's something about that that sends Louis dizzy. "I dunno," he says, shrugging, "your trainers? I don't care."

He and Niall head out of the room and then have to wait another minute because—as Louis well knows—Harry brought three pairs of trainers with him on the trip and is clearly desperately trying to figure out which ones Louis was referring to, knowing he can't go out and ask him without being too obvious in front of Niall. Finally he comes out in his black ones, and Louis barely spares him a glance, just says, "Took you long enough, come on," and sets off down the hallway.

He's always liked seeing Harry flustered, that's not new, and he certainly likes seeing Harry eager to please, so maybe this is just an extension of those two things combined. Whatever it is, it's _really_ working for him, and he keeps it going, needing more. It's actually a challenge for _him_ at the same time though, which, if he'd thought about it, he's not sure he would've expected. He supposes it has something to do with habit; he's so used to commending Harry whenever he does anything for him that sometimes the praise slips out before he can remember he's supposed to be refraining from it. Sometimes he can't help but grin at him when he does something stupid at Louis's request, partly because he looks so _happy_ and partly because he'll never get completely tired of seeing Harry do or say something completely inane purely for Louis's sake.

The inconsistency helps, though, as it turns out. If Louis wasn't giving Harry anything at all, he might give up, not bother to try so hard anymore, but because he can't _tell_ whether he's going to get a big grin and a _well done_ or not, he keeps trying in the hopes that he will, and Louis loves that, loves the feeling of control it gives him, knowing Harry is falling over himself trying to do his very best.

***

Harry doesn't understand it, any of it, but he always tries to take what Louis gives him and this must be something Louis is doing for a _reason_ , he must think Harry can handle it. Harry keeps telling himself that, but there's this anxiety nagging at him, this worry that maybe Louis's not praising him sometimes because he doesn't _deserve_ praise. But logically, he knows he's not doing anything different, definitely not slacking, and if Louis were genuinely unhappy with him he's sure he'd say something, or show it in other ways. For the most part things are normal, just as they've always been. It's not like Louis is suddenly neglecting him at all; they're still cuddling all the time and making each other laugh and fooling around.

It's just that sometimes when Louis tells Harry to do something and Harry does it, Louis doesn't seem pleased with him. He doesn't seem disappointed, just indifferent, but—somehow that's worse, like Harry's not even doing enough to keep his attention, and he can't help but want to try harder. And even though he's confused, he doesn't _mind_ having to make more of an effort, because if Louis thinks he's not doing well enough then Harry needs to do better.

Onstage, Louis continues to get him to change the lyrics, and Harry listens intently to the new words he has to sing, and bellows them out proudly no matter how silly they are, but most of the time Louis will barely look at him. He'll tell Harry which impression to do when the Twitter questions call for it, but where he used to praise Harry almost excessively for his usual Niall impersonation, all Harry gets now is a quick smile if anything. Sometimes Louis will be busy talking to one of the others, or speaking to the crowd, and Harry finds himself hamming it up more and more, desperate to get some kind of reaction out of him.

When Louis tells him to make him a cup of tea on the tour bus, run him a bath in their hotel room, fetch him things, Harry tries to be quick and perfect, but it seems like Louis is often distracted when Harry comes back. He'll be texting or resting with his headphones in or doing something online, and he'll just flash Harry a grin, mutter a quick "Thanks," instead of giving Harry that warm, proud smile, ruffling his hair, whispering _good boy_ in his ear and saying how lucky he is to have him. 

They've been so busy lately that they haven't had much time for sex; it's always late when they get in from the shows and they've got to get up early in the mornings for interviews and photoshoots and they're just _tired_ , settling for quick handjobs most of the time because they need their sleep. Louis doesn't praise him after those, either, but that's not that unusual—it's only when things are more intense, usually, that he'll reassure Harry that he did a good job, tell him how amazing he was.

Today is one of the band's few days off and the two of them are making the most of it, staying shut in the hotel room, glad to be able to take their time with sex for once.

"Want you to ride me," Louis murmurs, nipping at Harry's ear as he maneuvers the two of them to the bed.

Harry nods, watching as Louis lies back and starts stroking himself slick. Louis doesn't let him do this very often, and Harry likes it, it puts him out of his comfort zone a little bit to be on top when he's so used to being beneath Louis, feeling the weight of him. Louis's still in control, of course, and he makes that very clear, but there's something about the position that makes Harry feel so exposed. He likes the way Louis will lie back and watch him, urge him to go faster or to turn so Louis can get a look at Harry's arse bouncing up and down on his cock.

Louis already fingered him, backing Harry up against the wall and snaking his hand between his legs, plunging two fingers in and out, fast and deep until Harry was weak in the knees and clutching at Louis, pleading. So when Harry straddles Louis and starts to sink down on him, Louis's fingers still wrapped loose around the base of his cock to help guide it inside, Harry is ready. The stretch is like nothing else, though, and he groans, tipping his head back as he lowers himself, taking it deeper until he feels Louis's fingers. Louis retracts them, letting Harry sink down all the way.

Harry forces himself to lift his head back up because he knows Louis will want to see him, and Louis watches, eyes flicking from Harry's face to where their bodies meet, his lower lip caught between his teeth and his face and chest already covered in a thin sheen of sweat. Harry takes a moment, letting himself adjust, waiting for Louis to tell him he can move, and Louis makes him wait so long for it that he's soon desperate; the thick solid feel of Louis so still inside him is making him ache for friction. He's so hard from it, cock curving up against his own stomach.

"Lou," he says weakly. He needs to steady himself, and he places his hands on Louis's stomach, trying not to lean down too far and shift Louis's cock inside him. It's always— _strange_ , like this, knowing that he's technically in a position of power with Louis beneath him, but not feeling any urge to actually take control. He looks down at his own hands on Louis's belly; sees how large they look, especially when he splays out his fingers. Louis's skin is hot and soft, and Harry presses pleadingly, almost kneading at him. "Lou, Lou, please can I—"

"Yeah, go on," Louis says, finally, and it comes out like a long exhale, like he'd been holding his breath.

Harry sighs out a "Thank you, thank you," and starts to move, and he's too eager, too quick, using his hands on Louis's belly to lift himself and up and slam back down, moaning loudly at the hot slide of Louis inside him.

"Hey," says Louis firmly, reaching out to take Harry by the hips and hold him still, "slow for now, yeah?"

Harry nods, trying to hold in a whine, and Louis guides him, fingers biting into his hips as he gets Harry to rock gently against him. Harry hisses out a breath and Louis brings his hands back, up behind him so he can rest his head on them. It's so trusting that Harry feels a little rush of pleasure, thanking him again and trying to keep at the pace Louis showed him, gradually letting himself speed up and keeping a close watch on Louis's face to try read his reactions, make sure he's doing it right. Louis doesn't protest, so he builds up quicker and he's just found a good rhythm when suddenly Louis's phone is ringing, his ridiculous dance remix ringtone blaring out suddenly.

Harry laughs, but to his surprise, Louis doesn't. Instead he just reaches out for it, and Harry goes stock still, puzzled.

"Did I tell you to stop?" Louis asks.

Harry shakes his head, biting his lip as he realises Louis is actually going to answer the call. This has happened before, actually—Louis was feeling particularly cheeky once when their house phone rang during sex, and he decided to pick up. It was nervewracking but kind of fun, an inside joke, knowing the person on the other end of the line had no idea what they were doing. 

"Well hello yourself, Liam," says Louis into his phone, in a sort of booming voice that makes Harry giggle and try to catch his eye. Louis is just listening intently, though. "Yeah, I think that's it," he says and Harry wonders what they're talking about. Liam's gone out shopping today so it's probably this hair product Louis's been trying to hunt down—he can't get it back at home and it's hard to find even here; he's got everybody looking out for it. "No, it's like dark blue. The logo's white I think."

Harry is kind of impressed at how casual he sounds. It would probably take Liam a while to catch on to what's happening even if they were both moaning away, but like this, there's no way he's got _any_ idea. Harry is grinning at the thought of it, rocking back and forth on Louis's cock, keeping him in deep and trying to catch Louis's eye again, but Louis's got his head turned to the side and he's gazing out of the window. Probably he thinks he'll lose it if he looks at Harry, but that didn't seem to be a problem when this happened before; part of the fun was that they were giggling breathily at each other and confusing the caller, Louis making all these sly little comments, and this seems—different.

"There's a difference between navy and black, Liam," Louis teases, and Harry goes a little tense then, at the way Louis seems so happy to be joking around with Liam even when he's got Harry right on top of him like this. Jealousy flares up in Harry and he grips at Louis's stomach a little tighter, heaving himself up and then back down, churning his hips in a tiny circle and watching closely to see if Louis's eyelids flutter.

They don't.

Louis just says "Ah well, we'll find it somewhere," scratching idly at his chest, "how's the shopping going, anyway?"

Harry clenches his jaw, watching as Louis listens intently to whatever Liam's answer is. He wants Louis's attention back on him, _needs_ it, and he starts riding him quicker, hitching his hips to lift off a little and then slamming back down, over and over. He sprawls his hands up over Louis's chest, stretching out further so he's working himself back on Louis's cock fervently. His own erection skims Louis's stomach like this, adding to the pleasure, but he tries to ignore it, tries to concentrate on Louis.

This must be what Louis wants, for him to make more of an effort—Harry must not be doing a good enough job if Louis can still carry on a conversation. They're talking now about the things Liam's bought and Harry doesn't listen to the words, trying instead to hear if Louis's voice wavers at all, and when it does—just a little—Harry is spurred on. He fucks himself fast on Louis's cock, starting to ache a little from doing all the work but not caring, and he's surprised to suddenly hear his own name.

"Haz?" Louis's saying, impassively. "No, I dunno. He went out or something. Think he's with Zayn."

Harry frowns, a strange mixture of anger and determination boiling in his blood, and he forces himself to straighten back up, remembering that Louis likes to see when they fuck like this. Maybe he's acting like Harry's not even there because he's not giving him what he wants. Harry stretches back, holding onto the balls of his own feet and then clutching behind him at Louis's thighs, hips still moving in desperate jerky movements, torso outstretched, cock slapping hard against his own taut stomach.

Louis still doesn't look at him, but the change of angle hits Harry deep and feels _so_ good, he can't hold back a whimper. Louis's eyes flicker then, but he still doesn't look over, not even to give Harry a sharp glance of warning. Harry whimpers again, partly out of frustration now, but it—it feels so fucking good, there's something about having to try so hard that's making him hot, making something fizzle inside of him. He always has this urge to please Louis, and it's something he's always liked, but right now it's even stronger, it's a desperate need—he's not good enough but it's not making him feel hurt or defeated, it just makes him want to be _better_. But it's hard now, he's losing focus, every time he draws Louis's cock in he feels it brush that spot that sends him crazy and he's trembling, muscles aching, but it feels so good that he can't stop, he's so close.

He knows he should be concentrating on Louis, should be trying to get him off first—what if that's what he wants, what if he won't stop talking to Liam until Harry manages to make him come? But Harry's already teetering on the edge, working himself into a frenzy while Louis stays calm, still chatting. His breathing seems quicker and his voice has maybe gone a bit fainter but Harry doesn't know if he's just imagining it. Louis's free hand clutching the sheets tightly is the only real sign that he's feeling anything at all. Harry forces himself to stop, to pull forwards once again and steady his hands on Louis's chest—but it's the sudden shift that sends him over the edge, his cock rubbing sudden and rough against Louis's belly, and he splutters and gasps, whole body jerking forward as he comes, _hard_ , all over himself and Louis, hot wet between their bodies.

Harry feels like he's spinning. Louis's cock is still inside him, and the stiff shape of it still stretching him wide is making him ache with oversensitivity. He's slumped over Louis now, clinging to him and panting hot into his shoulder. He's only vaguely aware of Louis saying "Yeah, all right, you get going," into the phone, and then suddenly he feels his body being heaved up. Louis's hands hold tightly onto his arse as he pulls out and then shoves back in so hard that Harry lets out a choked gasp, fingernails digging into Louis's shoulder. Louis pounds into him, hips hammering, and Harry feels dizzy—maybe this means he got Louis a lot more worked up than he thought, that Louis was just pretending for Liam's sake, and the thought makes Harry feel proud. Or maybe it's punishment, maybe Louis's being deliberately rough with him because he's angry that Harry was trying so hard to distract him. It's all so confusing and it hurts, but it feels _good_ at the same time, and all he can do is cling on tight until Louis's coming, burying himself deep and moaning into Harry's hair, and Harry shudders right along with him, dazed and overwhelmed.

They go limp against each other, overheating and sticky, and then there's fingers combing through Harry's curls and a gentle voice murmuring, "You okay, babe?"

Harry makes a weak sound in his throat, nodding. "Mmm. Yeah, just." He wants to ask, wants to understand this better but something tells him he shouldn't, that Louis has a plan and Harry shouldn't question it. He can't really make sentences right now anyway.

"D'you wanna clean up or do you wanna have a nap?" Louis asks quietly, turning so he can speak right into Harry's ear, and his breath makes Harry shiver again with some kind of aftershock. Louis has slipped out of him now but it feels like he's still there.

"I don't—I don't know," Harry mumbles pathetically, still clinging on tight.

"Okay, babe, it's all right," Louis says, chuckling a little, rolling Harry off him and then pulling him in close again, and it's more comfortable like that. "You got yourself all wound up," Louis murmurs, voice tinged with amusement as he strokes at Harry's hair again, fingers gently rubbing into his scalp like Harry likes.

Harry wants to say _so did you_ , but—he's not even sure if Louis _did_ , not sure if he succeeded at all. Louis is being sweet now, but he's not telling Harry he did a good job, not reassuring him, and it's weird and Harry doesn't understand and he's exhausted and achey and he just keeps holding onto Louis tightly, unable to find words.

"We can rest for a bit, okay?" Louis says. "The others won't be back for a while. Sleep, Haz."

It's like the last two words press some kind of button in Harry's brain, because when he wakes up later that's the last thing he remembers hearing. He must have dozed off right away. He rolls over, heart jumping in his chest when he realises he's alone, but then he hears the sound of water running in the bathroom and when he sits up, bleary, he sees Louis poking his head round the door.

"I'm running a bath," he says with a grin. "Come join?"

Harry stands up, peeling the sheets off his body, feeling sticky, and sore like all his muscles are strained. He's quiet in the bath with Louis, lost in his own thoughts, but Louis doesn't seem to mind, humming to himself as he washes himself off. Harry can't tell if Louis understands and is just letting him think, or if he's oblivious, if he hasn't even noticed that Harry is still in a bit of a daze, and there's something about that that gnaws at him. Again, he wants to ask, but he's starting to think this must be some kind of game Louis's playing, and—that thought is frustrating now, making him feel angry and bitter and he doesn't want to play along, not if Louis's not even going to _explain_.

Louis is still sweet with him, offering to wash his hair for him like he sometimes does, but there's something about the way he's acting like nothing is out of the ordinary that just makes Harry more cross. He's lost in his own head for the rest of the day, trying to work out what Louis is doing and how he's supposed to be respond to it, and whether or not that matches up to how he _is_ responding. 

The only thing Harry can come up with is that Louis's trying to—to _train_ him or something. He thinks of how people train dogs, starting out by giving them treats when they obey commands and then making it less consistent, with the aim of getting the dog to respond even when the positive reinforcement isn't there. And if that's what Louis wants from Harry, Harry really wants to be able to give it to him, but he's just not sure he _can_. He needs some kind of response and he can't see why Louis doesn't understand that. It makes him feel sort of resentful, thinking that Louis might not get it, or that he _does_ and he's doing this anyway.

He still stays by Louis's side all day, curls in close to him when they watch a movie with Zayn in the evening. It's not that he resents _him_ , just—when Louis tells him to go make them some microwave popcorn, for the first time there's a part of Harry that wants to say no.

That feeling only increases, and he realises he wants to fight back against whatever it is Louis's doing, hurt and irritated by the way Louis isn't giving him what he needs. It's childish, maybe, to react this way instead of trying to talk to him about it, but there's a part of him that feels like Louis deserves it. Why should he do what Louis says if he's not getting anything out of it?

It's harder than he anticipates. It's like it goes against some fundamental part of him, and he never really thought of it that way. He knew it was important to him, obeying Louis, but he didn't realise _how_ important, never thought that he might not be able to stop even if he wanted to. If Louis told him to do something that he really didn't want to do, it would be different, but Louis's never done that, never asked anything of Harry that he couldn't handle. Except—except maybe this; to obey him without praise, reward, approval, or even mere _acknowledgement_. Sometimes it doesn't matter if Louis is _really_ impressed with him, as long as he's giving Harry attention of some kind that's what matters. That's the most important part to Harry, it always has been, and if he isn't getting a reaction out of Louis anymore, then this isn't—this isn't fun anymore.

But it's _hard_ to go against his instinct like this, to force himself to disobey Louis when it's habit, when it's everything his heart wants. Louis will tell him to do something and he'll start to comply before he's even aware he's doing it. Twice, he tries not to go along with Louis's lyric changes but he can't help it in the end, it feels _wrong_ not to. The second time, he manages to sing a whole chorus exactly as it should be even after Louis's told him to switch it for something else, but after, Louis is displeased and Harry pretends he just didn't hear him properly, promises to do it for the next chorus because he can sense Louis's disappointment. It's a relief to do what Louis wants, then, and he can't help beaming, and it's only later that he realises that Louis wasn't quite smiling back.

***

Tonight onstage, Harry directly disobeys an order. It's another lyric change and it's not even a particularly embarrassing one but for some reason Harry takes a stand, listens to Louis's instructions all calm and focused and then just flat-out _ignores_ them. And Louis didn't think it would make him as angry as it does, but there's something about it that really gets to him. Maybe it's because it's never happened like this, never so obvious and intentional, and a part of him wants to try play it off and not show that it's getting to him but he can't, sullen for the rest of the show. He knows he really pushed things the other day, ignoring Harry even while they were fucking, but—it's like he can't help it. Now that he's started, he doesn't know how to stop. 

As soon as they get back to their room, Louis's shoving Harry up against the door, hitching up on his toes to get right up close to Harry's ear as he hisses, "What're you playing at, hmm?"

Harry goes lax against him, letting out a long breath like maybe was holding it in anticipation, and he wraps his arms around Louis's waist, tangling his fingers loosely at the small of Louis's back like he's trying to pull him in even closer. Louis almost off-balances, holding tight onto Harry's hips to keep himself steady.

"When I tell you to do something, you do it, Harry," he says, words taunting, and he shakes Harry's arms off him so he can reach down to undo his fly. "Did you forget that?" Harry sort of whimpers, not giving him a real answer. "You gonna make it up to me? Show me you're sorry?"

This time Harry's response is an emphatic " _Yes,_ " and he's sinking to the floor immediately in response to what he thinks Louis wants from him.

"Hey," Louis snaps, hands sliding into Harry's underarms to drag him back up to his feet. "Did I tell you to do that?"

Harry shakes his head, keeping his gaze fixed on Louis's face, and his eyes are wide and dark and he's biting his lip and—Louis knows, then, knows that Harry probably did this on _purpose_ , to get a reaction out of him, and he's aware of the power imbalance there and the fact that he doesn't like it but god, he doesn't have the willpower to refuse this right now. Not when Harry's practically gagging for it, cheeks flushed, expression hopeful and apologetic and so, so willing. Louis thinks about how it hasn't exactly been easy holding back all this time—the effort it takes to look away when Harry's trying so hard to please him, to act like it's not affecting him.

"You're gonna do what I say, yeah?" Louis murmurs, shoving his trousers and boxers down in one swift move and getting his dick in his palm, feeling the hard pulse of it.

Harry nods eagerly. "Yeah, yeah," he says, swallowing like his mouth is already watering at the thought of sucking Louis's cock, and Louis has to squeeze himself at the base. "Yeah, just—tell me, Lou, I'm sorry, I'll do whatever, I—"

Louis reaches up with the same hand that was on his erection and slaps it over Harry's mouth to quieten him for a moment, and Harry inhales sharply and his pupils seem to dilate even more. Louis reaches back down to stroke himself, skimming his thumb over the tip of his cock to gather the precome there before bringing it back up to Harry's face, smearing the slickness over Harry's reddened lips. Harry breathes in sharply, going tense with the effort not to lick out.

"Go on," Louis says, dipping his thumb gently into Harry's mouth, and Harry closes his lips around it instantly, licking and sucking at it messily. "You gonna do that to my cock, yeah?" Louis breathes, eyes fixed on the soft plush of Harry's lips. Harry whimpers, the noise muffled around Louis's thumb in his mouth, and Louis tugs it out, says, "You can get on your knees now," and watches as Harry drops instantly.

He pushes into Harry's mouth without really giving him a chance to adjust, shoving in deep right away so that Harry's head knocks back against the door as Louis slides into his throat. He takes it, though, breath wheezing through his nose and throat clenching as he tries to keep calm and not gag. Louis wants to praise him but there's a bitter part of him that deliberately holds back, telling himself Harry hasn't earned it yet. But when he draws back, easing out, and Harry immediately dives forward and sucks Louis's cock right back down, Louis can't help gasping out a, "Oh, fuck—good boy—

Harry seems to explode with some kind of sudden energy then, taking Louis in deep with every motion, and Louis's never seen him work that hard for it before. He's fucked his mouth, but that's different, that's him making Harry take it and this is Harry doing it all on his own even when he's clearly struggling, forcing Louis's cock into his own throat and making sure his nose touches Louis's belly each time he goes down. He's making weak little choked sounds each time he comes off—only for a split second before he's sinking right back down again—and he's staring up at Louis with watery, red-rimmed eyes, desperate. Louis stares right back at him, slack-jawed, unable to even protest at the way Harry's basically taken control of this when Louis intended to knee him up against the door and hold him there, keeping him still and thrusting into his mouth. It's just so fucking _good_ , seeing him trying this hard, watching him do this to himself because thinks Louis is disappointed in him.

Louis can't enjoy it for that long before he's coming, though—can't even _try_ to hold off with the almost-constant tight heat around him, the suction and the pressure—he grips at Harry's hair to keep him from pulling off and spills right down Harry's throat, listening dazedly as Harry struggles to swallow with his mouth still stuffed full. 

Louis sinks onto the floor with him after, practically tearing Harry's trousers open to get his hand inside, finding Harry painfully hard as he knew he would. He strokes Harry roughly, just once over, and then brings his hand up to Harry's mouth and says, "Spit," and Harry does, and it's a mixture of saliva and Louis's own come that slicks his palm as he takes Harry's cock back in hand and starts to stroke him off with quick jolts of his wrist. Harry whines, bucking his hips, still breathless and panting as he slumps back against the door, legs tangled. Louis holds him down, a firm hand on his hip, and jerks him over and over, grip tight until Harry is babbling and coming hard, soaking Louis's fist.

There's a surge of something in Louis when he sees it, and he can't stop, keeping up the movement of his hand even as his muscles ache, and Harry cries out, squirming against him, thighs trembling when Louis keeps at it, the constant stimulation not letting his cock go soft.

"You want me to stop? Or do you think you deserve this?" Louis asks, voice steady, and Harry cries out again, writhing.

"Want—oh, fuck—no, Lou, I deserve it," Harry gasps out, grabbing a hold of Louis wherever he can get a good grasp on him, digging his fingernails in to stop himself instinctively shoving Louis's hand away.

Harry's cock is so hot in his curled fingers and Louis can feel the sensitivity of the skin, the raw heat, and he's ruthless, just starting to wonder if he can actually make Harry come a second time when suddenly he feels a weak spurt over his fingers and Harry is properly shaking against him, almost sobbing. Louis lets go right away, drawing Harry's limp body into his arms and holding him close, kissing his neck.

Harry's voice is shot when he asks, "Was I good, Lou?" and Louis murmurs, "Yeah, babe, yeah," into his ear, "let's get you into the shower and then bed, okay?"

Harry sleeps more soundly that night than he has in a while, not even snoring, dead to the world. But Louis is kept up by thoughts that keep nagging at him, the idea that Harry might have engineered this—he doesn't mind this being a game, but he doesn't want Harry _winning_ , manipulating Louis into giving him the attention he craves when Louis's been trying to withhold it. He decides he won't give in again, even if Harry ignores another order, he'll just—he'll grit his teeth and leave it, he won't let Harry end up the one in control of this.

Over the next week Harry is unpredictable; sometimes he'll do what Louis says and sometimes he won't, and Louis tries to react with indifference regardless but it's _hard_. When Harry obeys him he has this hopeful look in his eyes and Louis remembers how _good_ he was the other night, how hard he tried, and he longs to reward him. He manages to hold back, but it's different when Harry's defiant, his willpower is weaker then and he needs to keep his grip on it, not let Harry take over.

***

Harry acts out more, once he learns the pattern. Louis is much more likely to respond to that, he realises. When he obeys, he gets nothing, but when he ignores him Louis gets so pissed off and Harry can tell and there's a strange satisfaction there even though the reaction isn't positive. When Louis punished him it felt so good, just because he was finally getting _something_ out of him, and Louis told him he did good like he couldn't help letting it slip out, and Harry desperately needs it to happen again. There's masochism in it as well, of course—he still feels so guilty about defying Louis, especially when he sees how much it stresses him out, so the punishment is cathartic; it feels good trying to make it up to him.

He manages to get a reaction out of him twice more after that first punishment. The second time, Louis's trying to get him to do some kind of stupid dance during the Twitter questions segment of one of the shows, and Harry flat-out refuses, even managing to make Louis needle him, try to persuade him to do it. That alone feels good, because it shows that Louis _wants_ this, that Harry's refusal is getting to him. Harry knows Louis wanted to show him off to the crowd and he must be embarrassed by the fact that he can't get Harry to do what he wants. After the show Louis is all sulky and quiet and when they get back to the room Harry is wired for it, impatiently waiting for Louis to snap.

"Go put the shower on for me," is all Louis says, though, shrugging out of his jacket and looking at Harry with a weird sort of half-expectance, like there's a part of him already thinking Harry might not.

And Harry wants to push him over that edge, really make him lose it, so he just shakes his head.

"Right," says Louis, tapping his foot, all twitchy and agitated, and then suddenly he's dragging Harry to the bed, pulling him over his lap and yanking Harry's trousers down.

Harry can't help but hiss out, "Yesss," knowing what Louis's about to do, and Louis smacks him _hard_ , losing his temper, his hand connecting with the tender skin of Harry's arse and stinging like hell. Harry just squirms, bucking up for more, and Louis's fingers are in his hair, pulling sharply as he spanks him roughly with his other hand, palm slapping the skin over and over 'til it's red and sore and burning hot.

Harry ruts against Louis's leg, thrilled to have Louis's attention on him again, to be reassured that Louis is actually _affected_ by his lack of response. Louis still hasn't changed out of his stage trousers and Harry comes all over them, gets Louis's cock shoved down his throat as punishment, sitting back on his aching arse as Louis thrusts roughly in and out of his mouth 'til Harry feels totally bruised and sore and most of all _satisfied_.

Louis doesn't say he was good, this time, but Harry tells himself it doesn't even matter. He still misses the proud smiles and streams of praise, the reassurance that Louis is pleased with him that makes him feel like he's glowing inside, because lately it doesn't feel like Louis is pleased with him at all. But this is still something, and it's good—when Louis is holding him still and making it hurt Harry floats off to somewhere blissful.

The third punishment doesn't go how he expects, however.

He's been anticipating it all day, ever since Louis told Harry what to wear in the morning and Harry specifically went against his orders and chose a t-shirt he knows Louis hates. Louis is practically seething all day, and Harry can tell he's just waiting 'til they're alone so he can tell Harry off. Harry's eager for it too, starving for the attention, for Louis hissing in his ear about how bad he's been, maybe folding him over and fucking him into the carpet with a hand around his neck.

When they get back to the hotel Harry is docile and expectant for it, standing in the middle of the room and waiting for instruction. He knows he's been really bad this time, knows he doesn't need to push it any further. Louis takes off his jacket and shoes and then just folds his arms and looks at him, and Harry's heart is in his throat with the anticipation, flooding with something happy just from the way Louis's eyes are fixed on him like that.

"Take your clothes off," says Louis, his voice rough and heated, "all of them. That ugly fucking top first."

"Okay," Harry says, immediately undressing as quickly as he can and tossing the clothes over a chair so they won't get in the way before turning back to Louis, fully exposed, arms hanging by his sides. 

They've done this before, and Harry is naked so often in front of people that it really shouldn't send shivers down his spine but it always does; something about the way Louis's eyes rake over him. It doesn't make him feel nervous or insecure; quite the opposite. Louis knows every inch of Harry's body so well and yet he still can't get enough of looking at it, and Harry could stand here in front of him for ages just being watched. They've done that, too—Louis has made him wait a long time before, just sat on the bed or in a chair, drinking in the sight of Harry and deliberating over what he wants to do with him. Harry loves it so much it makes his head swim; he could stand there for hours as long as Louis's eyes are on him.

But Louis has a different plan tonight, it seems. "On the bed," he says after a further moment's consideration, and his face is hard, jaw set. "Hands and knees, arse up, yeah?"

Harry nods, scrambling to get on the bed and into position. He's not facing Louis now, and he doesn't think he should turn around, but he hopes that Louis is looking at him approvingly.

"Are you gonna stay still for me?" Louis asks.

"Yeah, Lou," Harry says clearly, trying not to move anything but his mouth as he speaks, to prove it.

"All right," says Louis, "I'll be back in a bit then."

"What?" Harry blurts, caught off-guard. 

"You're gonna wait for me, yeah? Show me how bad you want it, 'cause you obviously do, pissing me off on purpose like that," Louis says, his voice tight.

Harry swallows. This is different, but—maybe it's not that different to how it's been before, it's just that Louis won't be in the room, won't be watching him. It's a test of his loyalty, he supposes; Louis trusts him enough to stay still even without his supervision, and Harry wants to prove to him that he can, that he will.

"Yeah," he agrees. "Yeah, I can—I can wait." He doesn't know how long Louis is planning to be, but it won't be _that_ long—he's been able to tell, all day, that Louis is desperate for this too.

Louis hesitates, but only for a few seconds, and then Harry can hear the soft tread of his shoes against the carpet, and then a _click_ and the lights go out suddenly. The door creaks open, and then snicks shut. Harry stays as still as he possibly can, trying to keep his breathing steady—the sound of the door shutting behind Louis sent a strange shock of panic through him and he tries to stay calm, telling himself he can do this, Louis will be back before he knows it.

But—he can't be sure of that. He's _really_ made him angry this time and so far their punishments have always been things Harry enjoys but this—this isn't just a challenge, he actually doesn't _like_ it, doesn't want to be left alone like this while Louis goes off to do god knows what. He doesn't even know if Louis's doing it on purpose, really trying to hurt him, and the thought sends anxiety suddenly swirling through his brain. He tries to tell himself Louis just doesn't know, didn't realise this wouldn't be okay—Harry thought he could handle it too, after all—but immediately he feels a stab of anger in his gut, because how could Louis not know? How could he not realise? How could he think Harry would be okay with being abandoned like this?

The muscles in his thighs and arms are starting to ache from keeping himself up, even though it can't have been that long. The only time he's had to remain in this position before has been during sex, and then there's so many things to distract him from any sort of discomfort, but staying like this and doing literally nothing else is much more difficult than he thought it would be. He wants to slip down onto his forearms, rest his head on the mattress, but he can't bring himself to. Louis might be able to tell, when he gets back, and even if he couldn't Harry would still feel like he'd betrayed him and he's so frustrated at the realisation that he's still worrying about that, still wanting to make Louis happy even though Louis doesn't seem to care anymore about doing the same for Harry.

Harry feels a hot sting in his sinuses, and tries to hold it back, telling himself over and over that Louis is going to come back in just a few seconds and it's going to be okay, but then he realises that when Louis _does_ come back he's probably still going to punish him and Harry doesn't want punishment anymore, _this_ is already more than he can take. He realises suddenly that he's _done_ now, he's sick of this game, he wants things to go back to the way they used to be, he wants Louis to press him softly into the sheets and tell him how amazing he is and how he's such a good boy. With that thought the tears start to spill over and he collapses into the bed, slumped there and sobbing, frustrated and annoyed and confused and just— _distraught_. 

Even under all the hurt and anger he still feels guilty for letting Louis down. There's an ache in his chest at the idea of disappointing him, as well as just pure, raw panic from the abandonment. He _knows_ how much Louis matters to him, but for some reason it's hitting him like a sledgehammer now; he never realised that being without him could make him feel so terrifyingly vulnerable. It's all too much, too painful; he straightens back up just to pull back the sheets and then crawls under them, crying in a sort of choked-off way that he can't help, his brain asking over and over _what if he doesn't come back what if he doesn't come back what if he doesn't come back—?_


	2. Chapter 2

Louis's only wandered down the corridor, needing to be alone so he can try get his thoughts in order, calm himself down. He's still mad at this frantic urge he has to teach Harry a lesson whenever he disobeys, to really lash out at him, it makes him feel like he has no control and he doesn't understand why it _gets_ to him so much, scaring him and infuriating him at the same time. He left Harry partly just so he could try and get a handle of himself. This was just an experiment, a game, but it's spiralled into something else entirely and he's not _happy_ anymore. It brings temporary relief to punish Harry for his disobedience and he knows that Harry enjoys it but he's just left exhausted and dazed after and Louis misses seeing his face light up, misses seeing that giddy smile he gets when Louis is nice to him. But at the same time there's a part of him that doesn't want to go back, give in; it feels like he'd be letting Harry win and it's _stupid_ , he doesn't want this to be so complicated, it was just supposed to be fun. 

He's not sure how long he's been gone but it's only been a little while, more than five minutes but probably less than ten. He just can't figure out what he wants to do when he goes back in there. What if Harry's disobeyed him _again_ , on purpose, just to rile him up even more? What if he's still exactly as Louis left him? Louis clenches his fists. He wouldn't know what to do with either scenario. He usually feels so sure of himself with this, he knows what to do, and he's never taken anything further than Harry could cope with. But what if the reason this has turned into such a mess is because Harry _can't_ cope? It's so weird for Harry to act out like this, Louis didn't even think he was capable of it, and it must mean something, he's not just being a little brat for the sake of it.

Louis wonders if Harry's trying to send him a message and he doesn't get any further with that thought before he's basically sprinting down the corridor back to his and Harry's room, shoving the key card into the slot with such force that he nearly snaps it. It's still dark but he can tell that Harry has moved, crawled under the covers, and there's a sound from the bed, a sort of snuffle that has him instantly panicked, his heart rising up into his throat. He shuts the door behind him and flicks on the dim bedside light before climbing into bed beside Harry.

He leans in gently. "Haz?" he whispers.

"I'm so sorry," Harry gasps out, and Louis realises that he's crying, his voice thick and shaky with it and his nose blocked.

"Haz, no," Louis says, shuffling closer and pressing a kiss to Harry's exposed shoulder. "Babe, it's okay—"

Harry suddenly changes his tone, the weakness of his voice turns into something harsher. "It felt like so long," he says. The guilt churns in Louis's stomach and he feels sick. Harry rolls over now, and Louis can see that his eyes are red and puffy, his cheeks stained with tears. "Why did you do that? You can't do that," he says, urgent now, "just—don't, okay, don't leave me again."

"I won't," Louis promises instantly, nuzzling to kiss Harry's shoulder again, hugging him close. "I swear I won't. I won't."

He holds Harry tight and lets him cry, knows he needs to let it out, and mumbles reassuring nonsense at him, apologising over and over and telling Harry how much he loves him until Harry calms down a little. Louis is beginning to put the pieces together in the back of his mind, seeing how with each kind word Harry relaxes a little more. But then—

"I can't do this," Harry blurts out, pulling back. "I can't...Lou, I, this is—it's not working, I need—"

"What, babe? What do you need?" Louis still feels nauseous, just seeing Harry like this, knowing he fucking _caused_ it and there's this feeling nagging at him, that this isn't all just from tonight, that this is something that's been building and that it might not be something they can recover from. "Talk to me. Please. I'm so sorry."

"I need you to—" Harry starts, and then breaks off again, trembling, pressing the heels of his hands to his eyes to try and ward off more tears. "I need your—attention," he gets out eventually, and everything clicks into place. 

Of course that's what matters the most to Harry, of course it's all about Louis, the way Louis reacts to the things he does—that's _why_ he does whatever Louis says, to please him, to get Louis's approval and praise. And it's why Harry's been acting out, Louis realises, just to get _some_ kind of attention even if it's negative. It seems so blindingly obvious now that Louis feels fucking _stupid_ not to have figured it out. 

"God," he says in a small, stunned voice. "Fuck. Harry. I'm—I'm the biggest idiot on the planet. I'm a dick. I didn't even realise what I was doing to you."

They've never even talked about this, just fell into it without discussing why it got them off—it didn't even cross Louis's mind before now, it was just fun, and it made them both so happy that he never felt the need to analyse it. And they've always just been on the same wavelength until now, so in tune with each other that Louis never imagined he could go too far, could really _hurt_ Harry like this.

"We should've talked about it. _Shit_ , why didn't we talk about it?"

"'Cause we're both idiots," says Harry, and thank god, he's smiling a little now, his face sort of distorted with his cheeks still puffed up from crying.

"You don't hate me? Haz, you can totally hate me, I promise," Louis says. He still can't believe he could be so insensitive to take away the one thing Harry loves most in the world, just because he was fucking _bored_. 

"I don't hate you," Harry tells him, tugging him closer, kissing him softly. His lips taste salty. "You just don't think things through sometimes. A lot of the time."

"I know," Louis whines, "I'm the worst."

"No, I like that about you," Harry says right away, "usually, it's good, you're spontaneous and it's exciting but it's—this is—"

"Something we shouldn't be spontaneous about," Louis finishes, his heart still feeling like a boulder at the bottom of his stomach somewhere. "I know. Fuck. I'm so sorry, Harry, let me be sorry, okay? Don't tell me it's okay, because it's not."

Harry bites his lip, and Louis can tell he wants to reassure him but—they both know that Louis is right, that Harry will forgive him (might even have done already) but it won't ever make Louis's actions acceptable. 

"Why did you do it?" Harry says in a small voice, and Louis wants to—wants to cut off his own arm or something, to show how truly awful he feels about this, about seeing Harry in this state.

"God, I don't—I don't even know, I just—it was the way you reacted, you just—you kept trying so hard and, I don't know, it felt good, seeing you really straining yourself to please me like that."

"I kind of liked that too," Harry admits. "Like—until I realised it was pointless, I mean. But I—I don't mind having to work harder to make things good for you because—" he drops his voice lower, rolling over and nuzzling into Louis's chest, "because you deserve that."

Louis's heart flips and he reaches out, tangling his fingers in Harry's damp curls. "But only if you get something in the end, yeah?"

"Yeah," Harry says, and Louis can feel his breath hot through his t-shirt. "Yeah that's—that has to be there, I have to know that I'll get something out of you—even if you, if you punish me, that's okay, if you think I haven't done a good enough job that's—but you can't—you can't just ignore me, I can't handle it."

"No," says Louis softly, understanding that now, holding Harry so tight and so close to him, tangling their legs together beneath the covers. "I swear I won't ever do that again." Harry breathes out, steady and slow, and Louis pets at him. "I love you. You're so good. I—I shouldn't have taken you for granted like that. You amaze me every day." Harry sort of shivers with pleasure at that, snuggling against him, burying his face in Louis's neck, and Louis thinks about how much he must have been needing this. Louis's missed saying it, but Harry has definitely missed hearing it even more. He thinks of how harsh he's been, how there was barely any sweetness to balance it out, and he feels sick again, stroking at Harry's back.

"Even when I was ignoring you too?" Harry asks.

"Well—" says Louis, hesitantly, and then laughs, a little awkwardly. "No. That, um. That really pissed me off." He feels guilty admitting it right now, doesn't want to say anything bad against Harry when he's feeling this fragile, but Harry doesn't seem to mind.

"I could tell," he says, voice a low rumble; Louis can feel the vibration of it against his neck. "Why?"

"No, I mean—it doesn't matter, it's not—I'm not blaming you, you were right to fight back, I was hurting you," Louis assures him.

"But why did it bother you?"

"We don't have to talk about it, Haz," Louis says. He doesn't want to imply Harry did something wrong, not when he's like this. "It's just me being weird, I felt like you were forcing reactions out of me and it made me feel like—like I wasn't in control anymore. It's stupid."

Harry pulls back, looking Louis in the eye as he shakes his head a little. "Why _do_ you need to feel like you're in control?" he asks, and he's not mocking or concerned, just curious.

"I—I dunno," Louis says, caught off-guard by the question. "I never thought about it."

"Well, why do you tell me to do things?" Harry presses.

Louis laughs, feeling awkward again. "I dunno, Haz, I just like it. Why do you like doing what I say?"

"Because I like doing things for people. I like making people happy," Harry says simply.

Louis knows what he means. Harry's a people-pleaser, always putting the needs of others' above his own. He'll go out of his way to make fans happy, giving them food and water at signings when they feel faint, and taking photos with them even when they've been camping outside his house like stalkers. Anne once told Louis that when Harry's home and she's had a bad day at work, he'll run her a bath and cook one of her favourite meals for her, even if he's been busy all day too.

"It's like. It's really important to me. It's like my favourite thing," Harry goes on and he's gone quieter now, introspective. "And you're my favourite person. So I just...like doing things for you. Whatever you want. It feels good."

Louis goes silent for a moment. It seems so simple when he puts it like that, and he says it so clearly like he just _knows_ , and Louis doesn't—Louis doesn't feel like he could ever understand himself that well. "But why do you need my attention so badly?" he murmurs, wondering if Harry knows that as well.

"So I can see how happy I've made you," Harry explains. "Or that I've disappointed you or...whatever, really. It shows that you care about me."

Louis chews his lip, thinking. "I guess that's why I like telling you what to do," he says, "because...you do it and you like doing it and that shows that you care about _me_."

"And also it gets us both hard," Harry teases then, breaking the tension, poking Louis in the ribs. 

Louis laughs, squirming. "That too," he says, feeling his cheeks heat up, and it's silly, because they've both _known_ all this time that this is something they're turned on by, or it wouldn't have bled into their sex life as well. But it's different to admit it, especially to hear Harry say it so shamelessly. They lie there in silence for a bit longer and Louis's brain feels like it's whirring. "The control thing...that's not...I haven't always had that. I think just since I met you, really."

Harry looks at him, considering. "D'you suppose that's because like—you have less control over your life in general now? Because of the band, and other people controlling like...us, and our relationship?"

Louis almost wants to laugh, because in a couple of sentences Harry's got it spot on when Louis was at a total loss. "What else do you know about me that I don't know about myself, eh?" he teases, pressing his nose into Harry's neck, feeling a little exposed by how well Harry can read him, how easily he can figure something like that out when Louis's barely even spoken about it.

"Oh, everything," Harry chuckles. "But you'll learn in time."

Louis laughs. "Creep," he mutters, voice muffled against Harry's skin, and he kisses him gently on his collarbone, snuggling close. "Haz," he says quietly, "we're okay, right?"

"Yeah," Harry replies, right away, holding Louis to him more tightly. "Yeah, things will go back to normal, we're gonna be fine. Better, I think."

Louis lifts his head to look at him. He seems so much better now, and Louis realises just how badly he needed his reassurance and caring; it must have felt like such an incredible relief to him after going so long without it. "And you're sure you're all right? You don't—do you need anything?"

Harry smiles, touching their lips together in a soft kiss. "Just this," he says.

***

The next day, Louis is so good to him that Harry can barely take it—it feels overwhelming after the way things have been, a rush verging on an overdose; he's not sure he's ever felt so happy in his life. Louis barely leaves his side, whispering sweetly in his ear all day long. They have an interview and when they're each asked to state their favourite things about the other members of the band, Louis says twice as much as anyone else when he describes Harry. It's a bit tongue-in-cheek and he does hold back a little—not wanting to add to the rumours—but even so Harry is blushing by the end of it, listening to Louis wax poetic about his hair and dimples and cooking skills while the others shoot them concerned, bemused looks. 

In the car after, Louis sits so close to Harry he might as well be in his lap, and whispers addendums all the way to the photoshoot. "Wanted to talk about how good you always smell, too," he murmurs, and Harry squirms, cheeks aching from smiling, "and the way you sound when you come. And when you beg. And how good your mouth feels around my cock, how pretty your lips are, how red they go when you've been sucking me off. And..."

Harry is bright-eyed and bushy-tailed when they get to the studio; he can't sit still properly for them to do his hair and make-up and in the mirror he can see how flushed he looks, how dark and wide his eyes have gone. Louis just keeps at it, praising Harry over and over, for how well that suit fits him, how good his poses are, and the photographer has to tell Harry about six times to stop grinning like an idiot.

When Louis has dragged himself away from Harry for a couple of minutes to go to the loo, Liam comes over to Harry and says, "I'm glad you two have sorted things out," with a wink.

Harry elbows him in the ribs, tells him to shut up, but still he can't stop smiling. 

There's no show tonight and no early morning appointments tomorrow, so they have time when they get back from dinner for Louis to spread Harry out across the bed and take his time with him, though Harry barely needs it, so revved up from a day full of Louis's attention that he's shamelessly grinding up against Louis's thigh the moment Louis lies him down. 

"I love how eager you are," Louis tells him, kissing his neck, "how badly you want me."

"Mm, please Lou, really bad," Harry whimpers, still rubbing himself desperately against Louis, just waiting for Louis to hold him down or tell him to stop, but Louis is just mouthing gently at his throat.

"What do you want?" Louis asks him, breath hot on Harry's skin and Harry shivers, puzzled by the question.

" _You_ ," he says.

Louis laughs but he looks—almost embarrassed, somehow. "Yeah, but, how?"

"I don't—" Harry says confused, "I don't mind, whatever _you_ want." Louis looks Harry in the eye, and he looks so unsure all of a sudden, like he's lost some confidence. "Lou," says Harry gently, "you can—you can still tell me what to do, I—I love that."

"I just want this to be about you," Louis says after a moment's hesitation, "I wanna do the things that you want, because—because I was doing things that you _didn't_ and I just—"

"What I want is for you to boss me around," Harry reminds him, grinning and biting his lip, "I don't like choosing." Louis laughs, shaking his head.

"All right. Yeah. Sorry. Just—"

"I know. I get it." Harry tilts his chin up and kisses him, licking hot into his mouth until Louis relaxes a little; Harry can feel the tension loosening.

"Let's take our clothes off, yeah?" Louis murmurs then, sitting up, and his voice is a little shaky and it's really more of a suggestion than a command but it's good to hear, anyway, and Harry springs into action immediately to encourage him, yanking his shirt over his head.

When they're both undressed Louis flattens Harry across the bed again, spreading out his limbs and pinning him to the mattress by his wrists. Harry is breathing heavily, gazing up at him, and Louis settles between his legs, making Harry moan at the hot nudge of Louis's hard cock against his own. 

"Want you like this," Louis says, "so I can see you. Wanna see your face when I make you scream."

Harry can only whimper at that, and lift his hips a little off the bed to try rub against Louis again, needing the friction. Louis's grip tightens on Harry's wrists and he bites out, "Don't move," and Harry instantly goes still. "Good boy," Louis breathes, and a smile instantly starts twitching at the corners of Harry's lips. 

Louis smiles back at him sweetly, straightening back up and running his fingers ever-so-lightly down from Harry's chest to his cock, making Harry shiver. Louis's fingers dance over him, and the tiny touches are making Harry tremble. He struggles not to move, not to buck up against Louis's hand, having to work so hard to keep his hips down.

"You're so good," Louis tells him, "so good, look at you, so still for me."

"Yeah," Harry breathes, greedy for the praise, wanting more even though Louis's been giving it to him all day long. "Yeah, Lou, wanna please you."

"You do, babe," Louis assures him, finally taking a firm hold of Harry's cock, fingers curling tight and making Harry groan. "All the time."

He strokes Harry roughly, only dampening his palm a bit with Harry's precome because he knows this is how Harry likes it, when it drags a little. He can't seem to take his eyes off Harry and it's making Harry hypersensitive, somehow overstimulated just from Louis's fixed gaze because he looks so—so in _awe_ of Harry, and that's the best feeling in the world. Harry makes him want to look like that all the time.

Louis leans back down over him and Harry clings to the sheets with the effort it takes not to touch him, not to wrap his arms around him and hold him close. Louis keeps tugging at him, hand trapped between their bodies, and presses his lips close to Harry's ear. "Gonna fuck you with my fingers 'til you're begging for my cock."

Harry whimpers again. "Please. Want it."

Louis laughs softly, his breath tickling Harry's ear. "Already! You're so good, Haz." He kisses Harry's neck again and this time he latches on, and Harry startles, not expecting it—lovebites from Louis are one of his favourite things in the world but Louis rarely gives them, too anxious that someone will see, sticking to hips and thighs and _never_ Harry's neck anymore. Harry bites his lip and moans at the feeling, at the knowledge that Louis is marking him like this in such an obvious place, and it—it feels like a reward, a gift, and he almost comes all over both of them at the thought.

Louis pulls off and Harry's neck throbs a little, his pulse quicker with the blossoming bruise, and he's a babbling mess now—"Thank you, thank you, oh god, please, Lou, your fingers, please, need you in me, want your cock, please—"

"So polite," Louis teases, stroking Harry's hair gently, smoothing it back off his sweaty forehead. 

He clambers off Harry and shuffles over to the edge of the bed, getting the lube from the nightstand, and Harry makes a grateful noise. He forces himself to keep still, waiting while Louis slicks his fingers, impatient but willing to wait for as long as Louis wants to make him. Luckily it's not long at all; Louis might _want_ to tease tonight but he can't, just as hungry for it as Harry is. Something about this feels so _right_ , the way they're just clicking now like they haven't been lately. There was something about the challenges and the excitement of things before that Harry enjoyed, but this is what he really loves, knowing the two of them are on the exact same page, and he's just so thrilled to have that feeling _back_.

When Louis presses one finger inside Harry, he starts talking again, telling Harry how good he feels, so hot and tight and perfect around him, how he can't wait to feel him around his cock, and Harry is flushed and aching for it, Louis's finger crooked and stroking persistently, feeling so good already. Louis slides in a second finger quickly, stretching Harry wider, working them slow and steady and shallow.

"You can take another one, can't you, darling?" Louis murmurs softly, and Harry can't help but squirm at the words because Louis calling him that always just _does_ something to him. Louis pushes a third finger alongside the other two and Harry moans weakly at the look on Louis's face; he looks so pleased. "Yeah, look at you just taking it, looks so good, Haz, fuck. Push back on them, yeah? Show me—"

Harry complies right away, eager for it, shoving down onto Louis's hand and feeling his fingers slide deeper, right up to the knuckles. He moans, needing to feel Louis's cock there.

"Gonna fuck you now, yeah? Really hard like you love," Louis says, leaning down over him to kiss his temple, nuzzle into his hair, and Harry can only lift into it, just nodding now, losing the power of speech. Louis's fingers are still working in and out and Harry can feel their cocks touch again and he's a mess, wriggling without rhythm just trying to get more, more of everything. Louis takes his fingers away suddenly. "Stop it," he says, and he's getting that harsh tone back in his voice, the one that sends sparks running through Harry's veins, "stay still."

Harry freezes right away even though is body is aching to keep moving, to feel friction inside him and against his cock. Louis kisses him again and presses a thumb to the lovebite he left before, sending a little dull jab of pain through Harry and he moans, head dropping back against the pillow. Louis moves back down, leaving kisses all the way along Harry's torso and pausing to take just the head of Harry's cock between his lips and suck, sudden and _hard_ , making Harry cry out. Louis looks up at him, eyes flashing wickedly, and then he pulls off, grabbing for the lube again to get his cock wet, and Harry watches as Louis strokes over it, makes it shine. He wants it inside so bad and his heart is pounding with the anticipation of it, knowing he's going to get to feel it soon _and_ have Louis's eyes on him the whole time.

"Spread your legs," says Louis. Harry's already got them kind of carelessly splayed but he knows what Louis wants, bends his knees and opens them wider so Louis can settle between and lean in close. "Around me," Louis says then and Harry obeys again, wrapping his legs around Louis's waist.

The first hot slide of Louis's cock makes Harry cry out, loudly—the feel of it breaching his tight hole feels somehow so much better than usual and Louis is staring right into his eyes the whole time and it's almost too much. Louis immediately covers Harry's mouth with his hand and Harry moans out a stifled _yes_ , loves it when Louis tries to shut him up like that. Louis thrusts in deeper, murmuring dirtily to Harry about how he's opening up for him, how he's making Louis feel so good, how pretty he looks when he's taking Louis's cock.

"So good, aren't you, babe?" Louis whispers, easing out only to plunge back in again all the way and Harry's cry is once again muffled against Louis's hot palm. "So good at getting fucked, yeah? Taking my cock so well."

Harry nods, staring into Louis's eyes, half-dazed now, just gazing into the sparkling blue as Louis starts to pound into him, increasing the pressure of his hand on Harry's mouth so Harry feels slightly breathless, Louis's cock hitting deep and fucking into him fast, hard. Louis hasn't given him a chance to get used to the usual slight ache of it, knows Harry likes it better that way, when it hurts a little. Louis takes his hand from Harry's mouth and repositions Harry's legs, gets them hooked over his shoulders instead of wrapped around his waist. He can get in even deeper like that and Harry can feel it everywhere, hear the harsh slap of skin on skin. 

He wants this to go on forever, but already he's close—this is what he's been deprived of for what feels like so long now and now that he's got it again he's not sure he'll be able to hold on, make it last. His cock is rubbing persistently against Louis's belly, a constant rough drag, and Louis's lips brush against his, teasing.

Harry is lifting his chin up to him, wanting more. "Lou, I'm—think I'm gonna—"

Louis just nods and kisses him, light at first and then properly, messy, his tongue hot in Harry's mouth. He breaks off, just to tell Harry again how good he's being, how much he loves him, and Harry's pushed closer to the brink by the words, gripping handfuls of the bedding as Louis fucks him relentlessly hard, not letting up, getting him closer and closer. He alternates between soft encouragement and kisses all the while, until Harry can't take it anymore and loses it, spilling hot between them, whole body tensing then shaking and Louis holds him through it, telling him how much he loves seeing him come and pressing his lips to the mark on Harry's neck.

Harry squirms helplessly; it's all too much—and then Louis backs off, drawing out of him and flattening Harry's weak legs against the bed again. He straddles Harry's stomach, careful to avoid his cock, and starts stroking his own, hand gliding so quickly over himself that it's practically a blur. Harry is still seeing stars but when he realises Louis is going to come on him he gathers his senses enough to begin begging again—Louis likes to come inside him, usually, but Harry loves this more, loves it when his chest or back gets striped with Louis's come like Louis is marking him with it.

Louis's other hand comes down to cup Harry's face, caress him, and he's still talking, the constant praise making Harry light-headed. The last words he gets out are _so beautiful_ and then he's coming, streaking across Harry's chest and right up to his neck, and Harry finds himself just grinning, inanely, so happy that it almost _hurts_ , and Louis is stroking over his dimple with his thumb, hardly waiting to get his breath back before he starts telling Harry how perfect he was, what a good job he did.

***

They go slow for a while then, gradually building back up to the way things used to be, and Louis can't help but be a little overzealous with his praise now that he knows just how important it is to Harry and how hard it must have been for him to go without it. One afternoon on the bus, Louis tells him to get him a can of Sprite from the fridge and when Harry trots back with it obediently, Louis pulls him close and presses a kiss to his neck, right on the lovebite he gave him, which almost makes Harry's knees buckle. 

"You," Louis announces, grinning as he flicks the can open, "are the best boyfriend in all the world, you know that?"

"Steady on," snorts Zayn.

"Yeah, changed your tune a bit lately, haven't you?" Niall grins.

There's a knowing tone in his voice that unsettles Louis slightly—he knows the others have all noticed _something_ odd but Niall is acting like he might know more than Louis is comfortable with. That evening they go out for drinks and when Niall brings Louis a pint and Louis just says thank you, Niall gasps, mock-offended.

"You mean you're not gonna tell me what an amazing boyfriend I am?" he pouts, and Louis thwacks him on the forehead with a menu.

Even when they've re-adjusted, things just don't feel quite right with him and Harry. It's as though something's missing, even though they've gone back to the way it was before, and eventually Harry suggests that maybe they should talk about it some more, that period of neglect and punishment that Louis just tries not to think about because it still makes his heart ache with guilt. 

"I mean it's not—it wasn't all terrible," Harry reminds him. "I liked the _challenge_ , you know, like I said? I like the idea of having to work a bit to make you happy and it just feels kind of—easy, now," he admits. They're having the conversation in hushed tones in Louis's bunk on the bus, the others all asleep.

"Yeah," Louis whispers, thinking about it. "Yeah, and—well, you know I like pushing you."

"And I liked it when you punished me," Harry murmurs, cuddling closer to Louis and dropping his voice a little lower, and a shock of heat runs through Louis as he remembers slapping Harry's arse raw and choking him with his cock. It still bothers him to think of how Harry wheedled that out of him deliberately but—in the moment it was so hot he could barely handle it. He _really_ wants that again.

"Me too," Louis says, mostly into Harry's hair. "I could—I could do those things to you when you're good, though."

He can feel Harry shaking his head. "No, like—part of it was about wanting to make it up to you. Feeling like I had to be better."

"God," Louis moans. "Don't say stuff like that, you're gonna get me horny."

Harry laughs and then stifles the sound in Louis's chest so they don't wake the others. "Maybe you could give me stuff to do that I won't always be good at," he says, then, thoughtful. "Like—setting tasks, sort of. And if I do a good job you can reward me but if I mess up then you can punish me."

Louis swears under his breath. "That sounds really good, Haz."

"Yeah?" Harry says happily.

"Yeah. But—you're not allowed to fuck up on purpose, okay? And I won't punish you just for refusing, you have to try," says Louis, and Harry nods. "Wait, but—I mean, you _can_ refuse, though. Like—please don't ever do something you don't want just because you want to please me, okay? You can always say no and I'll stop."

Harry chuckles. "Obviously. I know that."

"Yeah but we've—we've never _said_ it," Louis persists. He pulls Harry's head back to get him to look at him. "Promise me you'll say something if you're uncomfortable with whatever, from now on."

"I promise."

"Good," says Louis, and Harry's head sinks back down, pillowed on Louis's chest. Louis toys absentmindedly with his hair, fingers playing through it. "So what kind of tasks are we talking?" he asks after a moment of silence. His mind is already overflowing with possibilities, flitting from one suggestion to another at top speed.

"Anything," Harry breathes, right away, pushing closer with his hips, and Louis feels that he's hard, cock stiff and pulsing against Louis's thigh.

Louis's heart pounds. "I want—so much." He's never thought of it like this, never really thought about all the different things they _could_ do, they just got caught in a routine and he never considered trying anything new, not like this. Once again he feels so stupid, that his first instinct when he got restless was to _ignore_ Harry when there was a whole world of other things he could have done, amazing things, things Harry might actually _like_.

"I'll try all of it," Harry insists, and Louis's getting hard too, mostly from Harry's enthusiasm, his cock swelling under the covers.

"Fuck," says Louis weakly. "Let's—can we start with me getting you off right now without you making any noise?"

Harry nods, catching Louis's mouth in an eager kiss, and—well, it turns out they're not exactly successful with that one, but that just means that Louis gets to keep stroking him after, until it hurts and Harry is squirming and burying his face in Louis's shoulder and, finally, begging him to stop.

"I think—" he says then, panting, his eyes teary and the sheets sticky around them, "I think this is gonna work."

It does. Even better than Louis expects. 

He never realised how much more they could do onstage, for one thing. The entire Twitter questions segment is perfect for tasks and he realises how easy he goes on Harry usually, telling him to do the same old Niall impersonation that he's basically perfected by now. Louis's new favourite thing is to get Harry to imitate _him_ , because Harry can't quite get the Yorkshire accent right and he's never been very good at things that involve mocking Louis in the first place. The audience just laughs when Louis fixes Harry with an unimpressed look afterwards and says, "Well, that wasn't _brilliant_ , Harry, was it?" but the way Harry hangs his head and immediately gives a heartfelt apology probably looks a little more odd.

Louis never realised he could have more fun with the lyric changes, either. He starts making them dirty, rather than ridiculous things about cereal and shoes, and he says them in Harry's ear only moments before the corresponding verse comes up so Harry is on edge waiting for the instruction. Every time, Louis waits for an "I can't say that!" to follow the shocked look, but it never comes—Harry always listens, nods, accepts it. In the past sometimes he would mumble or slur and Louis would cheer and laugh anyway, but now he can be more strict. Now, if Harry doesn't sing it loud and clear, or if he chickens out at the last second, Louis can give him a slight shake of the head or wrinkle his nose to let Harry know he's not happy. He feels a bit bad about it, because he's hardly surprised that Harry's embarrassed to sing about dicks and deepthroating in front of thousands of young girls, but the way he goes all brooding and determined like he's desperate to make it up to Louis later makes it all so _good_ , so worth it. In private after, Louis will punish him, pulling him over his knee for a spanking, and Harry will promise to do better next time.

Louis comes up with so many things for Harry to do, likes it best when the tasks are a little bit embarrassing, when Harry will have to push himself through the humiliation of it because he wants to make Louis happy. Louis sends him down to the vending machine in their hotel one night, telling him to get him a snack but to go shirtless. Harry makes a fuss about that one, whining about how there might be fans. 

"They all know you love getting naked," Louis points out, and Harry argues something about context but when Louis asks him if he wants to back out, he just shakes his head and gets out of bed, pulling on his jeans and leaving the room, in just them and nothing else. He comes back empty-handed and apologetic and Louis would think he was pretending, doing it on purpose, but he can't fake the bright flush of embarrassment across his cheeks.

It turns out there _were_ fans and some of them had cameras, because the pictures are up on Sugarscape the following morning, but Louis wouldn't know there was a legitimate excuse from the way Harry basically grovels for his forgiveness. They keep that one up for a while—once Harry succeeds, Louis makes him go without trousers the next time, in just his shirt and boxers, and then finally in his boxers and nothing else. Luckily, both of those times the nearest vending machines are much closer, and there aren't any eager fans waiting around to take snapshots, but Harry is still pink and flustered when he gets back to the room, clutching Louis's requested drink or packet of crisps tightly. Louis showers him with praise, kissing his red cheeks until they cool and telling him how gorgeous he is when he's embarrassed. He picks out Harry's outfits every day for a week as a reward.

There are so many things he wants Harry to do in bed, too. He wants to tie Harry up, which makes Harry nervous, but he obliges, gets through it without panicking and gets a lovebite sucked purple beneath his collarbone in return. He takes both Louis's cock and one of his fingers at the same time, and Louis comes on his face for that because Harry's been begging for weeks and Louis's been waiting for a time when he's earned it. The rewards are so much more frequent than the punishments because Harry's just so _good_ , trying so hard for Louis, really pushing himself. They talk about it often, Louis checking in to make sure Harry's not putting Louis's pleasure too far above his own comfort. 

One morning Louis decides that he doesn't want Harry to talk for the entire day, and Harry goes along with it. Their only commitment that day is one interview and Louis explains that Harry's got a sore throat, is on vocal rest, which is bought by _most_ people but not the other boys, who are bemused at Harry's silence and apparent lack of illness. That night Louis lets Harry scream as loud as he wants even though Zayn's right next door and they've already discovered that the walls are pretty thin, and then Harry's throat _is_ sore the next day, his croaky voice adding some convenient authenticity to the lie.

One of Louis's favourite things is to experiment with controlling Harry's orgasms, trying to see how many times he can make him come, or if he can come just from Louis inside him without touching his cock at all. Occasionally he tries to get Harry to come three times in a night and whenever he can't manage it, Louis withholds orgasms for a few days, only letting Harry get _him_ off and leaving his erection neglected and aching. He _loves_ how hard Harry tries, the way he'll strain his body, desperate to make it do things it can't quite cope with.

The first time Harry comes without a hand on his dick is fucking _amazing_ , it's like Louis is pumping the come right out of him with his cock and he kisses him 'til their lips are bruised after, won't stop telling him how special he is for about a week. Niall gets so desperate to know why that he actually asks, and Louis is so proud of Harry that he tells him. (Niall's response is some stunned blinking and then no more questions about their sex life for a really long time. Which isn't actually _that_ long, because it's Niall, and he's a nosy bastard.)

What Louis _really_ wants is for Harry to be able to come on command. He does everything else Louis says, and it just—Louis wants control of _that_ , as well, wants to be able to make Harry orgasm exactly when he tells him to. He thinks about it for a long time before mentioning it to Harry, because it's hard to explain without making him sound like a total control freak, though he knows Harry won't judge him. It feels so good to _talk_ about these things with him, to know exactly how Harry feels about a task, and sometimes they get each other so excited just talking about something that they end up getting off before they've even had a chance to do it. When Louis gathers the courage to bring up this new idea, Harry is immediately turned on by it, going wide-eyed, telling Louis how hot it makes him to think of Louis having such power over his body like that.

But it's _difficult_ , seems impossible at first, and Louis is kind of bitter and frustrated because he thought it would be pretty easy; the two of them are so in tune with each other and over the years they've had to rush a lot of sexual activity, _had_ to come quickly, and this doesn't seem that different. Harry is equally frustrated—when Louis tells him to come he _wants_ to so badly but his body won't co-operate. 

Harry accepts the punishments eagerly when he fails, swearing he'll do it next time, letting Louis slap him across the face repeatedly or fuck his throat 'til he cries. And then Louis will gather him up in his arms, reassure him of how good he's being, how amazing it is that he's trying so hard, how he _knows_ he can do this and he has so much faith in him and he'll get there, he will, eventually. The combination of discipline and reassurance really works for Harry, and one time he actually comes at the exact moment that Louis starts to tell him to, and Louis is thrilled because it's the closest they've gotten so far. Harry refuses the praise, though, saying he doesn't deserve it, that it was coincidence and he knows he can do better if they just keep trying. 

It's—kind of overwhelming, how determined he is. Louis knows it's not _just_ about pleasing him, because Harry is so into this idea too, but what he's into is the idea of Louis having even more control over him and the thought of that makes Louis feel giddy sometimes. It's a little weird now that he knows _why_ he likes it so much, now he's aware that to some extent it comes from a place of self-doubt, an urge to be shown just how much Harry loves him through what he's willing to do for him. It makes him feel vulnerable, sometimes, but it's reassuring that Harry is the same, that his desperation for Louis's attention comes from a pure and simple need to know that Louis _cares_.

Finally, Harry succeeds. It's after Louis hasn't let him come for a whole week, so it's probably partly the pent-up frustration that does it, but Louis's pretty sure it's also got something to do with a slight change of tactic. He's been commanding it all this time because he just slips into that naturally, it's easy to snap out a sharp, impatient "Come, Harry," because Harry usually responds so well to harsh demands. But he's been thinking lately, about how much they both need each other, about how reliant Harry is on Louis's love for him, and this time he decides to do things differently.

He's got Harry on the edge of the bed, and he's wrapped around him from behind, his own cock pressing hot into Harry's back but left ignored so he can focus on Harry's. Harry has his hands on the bed, Louis reaching beneath his right arm so he can take a hold of Harry's cock, jerk him off at just the right angle like Harry's doing it himself. He's so desperate for orgasm that Louis knows he can't drag this out too long, so he makes his first attempt after only stroking at him a few times, hand tugging quick and steady.

He hooks his chin over Harry's shoulder, mouths at his neck. "Love you," he mumbles against his skin, and Harry moans and Louis can _feel_ it in his body, how close he is. Spurred on, he murmurs, "Wanna see you come, Hazza, need it. Come for me—"

He's about to go on, but he doesn't need to, because Harry is suddenly going taut up against him, hips jolting as he comes and comes over Louis's fist, writhing until Louis wraps an arm around his middle and holds him tight and still.

"Oh, my god," Harry pants out, "Lou, I did it."

Louis beams, pleasure curling through him as he kisses Harry's shoulder. "You did it."

He's never felt more proud of him, his heart swelling, and it's clear that Harry's never felt more proud of _himself_ either. He's so excited by it that he's hard again in mere moments and Louis lets him ride him, stares up at him and won't stop telling him how proud he is, how happy he's made him—and how much fun they're going to have with this, because Louis is already thinking about training Harry to get even better at it, so he can do it every time, so all Louis has to do is get him hard and whisper and it'll just _happen_.

When Harry says he's getting close again Louis urges him on, voice soft as he tells him to come, calls him _darling_ just for the hell of it and Harry comes almost instantly at the word, with a shaky cry and a blissed-out smile. Louis lies him out and comes all over his face, painting his cheeks and smearing it over his mouth, and then holds him down and covers him in lovebites, for once not giving a shit about how much trouble it's going to cause. A lot, as it turns out—Harry has to use industrial amounts of concealer and button his shirts uncharacteristically high for more than a week, but he's so happy that he doesn't care in the slightest. Both of them are stupidly euphoric, joined at the hip even more than usual, and Louis feels like he could burst from all the love inside of him.

He doesn't know what it _is_ exactly, that feels so good, and he tries to think about it because Harry's been encouraging him to understand why they both like the things they like, so that Louis is smarter about it, so there isn't a risk of them fucking up again. Maybe that's it—maybe it's just the way that their relationship feels so much stronger. The way they managed to take such an awful experience and turn it into something positive when at the time, Louis was afraid they might never come back from it. And maybe it's the way Harry has given Louis the kind of control he's been craving for so long without realising it, and how he's done it so _happily_. It finally feels like they're what they should be, what Louis naively thought they already _were_ but couldn't be before, not when there was so much they didn't understand about each other. There will still be discoveries, maybe more conflicts, but Louis knows that they'll be able to handle them now. They can handle anything.


End file.
